


Denouement

by antigrav_vector



Series: Like trying to stop an avalanche [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brainwashing, Bucky!feels, Clint Barton/James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, Cuddles, F/M, Hydra, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Mission Fic, Multi, Natasha POV, Natasha Romanov/Clint Barton - Freeform, Natasha Romanov/James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers - Freeform, Non-Graphic Gore, Non-Linear Narrative, OT6, Open Relationships, POV Switches, Past Steve Rogers/ Margaret "Peggy" Carter, Poly Relationships, Rhodey POV, Steve Rogers/Clint Barton - Freeform, Thor POV, Tony POV, Tony Stark/Clint Barton - Freeform, Tony Stark/James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Tony Stark/Steve Rogers - Freeform, Virginia "Pepper" Potts/Clint Barton - Freeform, Virginia "Pepper" Potts/James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, Virginia "Pepper" Potts/Natasha Romanov, Virginia "Pepper" Potts/Steve Rogers, Virginia "Pepper" Potts/Tony Stark - Freeform, bucky pov, canon character death, far more plot than intended, injuries, some Tony!whump, steve rogers/james "bucky" barnes - Freeform, tons of background or implied pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing as it picks up immediately after the events of the previous installment, this fic will not make much sense as a stand-alone.</p><p>This is primarily the story of how the team gets Bucky back and does a bit of property damage. Oh, and HYDRA shows up to try to stop them. That might be vaguely important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [[ Tony POV ]]

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks, once again, to my faithful beta [lil_1337](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337).
> 
> Notes, as always in long!fic, will be clickable, with links back to the main text.
> 
> Beware the POV switches. There are a lot of them this time around, and labelled for clarity.

When Tony touched down in DC, at about 0430, he made sure to keep as low profile as he could as he approached, touching down in Sam's backyard with a muted thump and carefully clomping across the small brick patio to the French doors at the back of the rented house.

They opened before he could get there, and Steve looked at him, relief in his expression. "Good. You're here."

Tony put up his faceplate and gave him a long look. "Okay, spill, what happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing major," Steve replied, tugging him towards the house and the well-hidden spot in the kitchen he could use to get out of his suit. "Couldn't sleep."

"You're more of a mother hen with your worrying than Rhodey," he quipped, but stepped out of the armour and obligingly pulled Steve against his side.

Steve went happily, without protest, and turned the move into a true hug, his arms going around Tony's waist and plastering them tightly together. "Can't help it. Memories. And Bucky being out there on his own..."

"Come on, then," Tony walked Steve backwards toward the empty sofa he could just about see in the dim light. This was usually Pepper's job, but he knew how it was supposed to work. "I'm designating you my body pillow. We both need to get some sleep before we go charging in there."

Steve huffed at him. "Now who's mother henning?"

"You need it, and Pepper's not here. Now shut up and cuddle me."

Steve shook his head, but acquiesced.

Tony roused some forty minutes later to the sound of Sam snickering at them. "You know, I never would have pegged either of you for the type to cuddle on a sofa like that. And anyway, I thought Stark was dating Ms. Potts."

It was, truth be told, much less of a reaction than Tony would have expected from Sam, considering how star-struck he'd been when he'd met them. Sam was clearly good people.

"I am," he told Sam. He didn't mention the rest of it; now wasn't the time to bring that up. "Steve," he grumbled, prodding at his lover, "your friend is way too much of a morning person."

He got an amused rumble of sound in reply. "Natasha and Clint picked him up, not me."

Tony grumbled as he forced himself upright and stretched. "Don't care."

Laughing at them outright, Sam disappeared into his kitchen. "Whatever," he called, "get your asses off my sofa and come eat something."

As they straightened their clothes, Natasha drifted past them, her fingers subtly trailing over whatever exposed skin she could find and tangling briefly in Tony's hair. Clint stumbled after her a beat later, muffling a yawn, and tossed them a vague salute in place of a greeting. Thor and Bruce followed soon after, both looking somewhat tired and worn.

Tony suspected they had been awake almost as long as he had.

Natasha stayed just long enough to down a mug of strong coffee while Sam ransacked his pantry for enough food, and let Thor do the same before she caught his eye and pointed toward the patio door with her chin. "Ready?"

"Aye," Thor nodded. "Let us go retrieve our allies."

Steve watched them leave, looking torn between worry, grim satisfaction, and anticipation.

Tony rubbed at his eyes, wincing when the grit scratched at his skin, and yawned. "So where's my coffee?"

"Make it yourself," Clint grumbled, finally coherent enough to bother with words.

Sam laughed and handed them bowls of health-grain cereal and milk. Sometimes, Tony thought as he stared down at his bowl of whatever and debated eating it, he really had to wonder at the fact that _they_ had ended up earth's mightiest heroes. Despite their collective caffeine addiction and lack of coordination when overtired.

Before anyone could break the silence, Rhodey stumbled into the kitchen, looking distinctly better than the rest of them. He had a bowl of cereal pressed into his hands as Sam left the room. Tony looked through the doorway after him for a moment, then shrugged and picked up his spoon. He would need these calories and more before the day was out.

Tony raised an eyebrow at his best friend as Rhodey sat down next to him, their shoulders bumping. "Don't you look fresh as a daisy," he quipped. "What's your secret, Honeybunch?"

Steve huffed, amused by Tony's antics, but said nothing and continued sipping at his coffee.

Clint, on the other hand, groaned and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, where it rested on the kitchen counter. "For the love of God, it's way too early for this shit, Tony."

Rhodey laughed at Clint. "You get used to it," he replied calmly, while Bruce started another carafe of coffee brewing. "Where're Natasha and Thor?"

"They came and left again," Bruce said, breaking his silence. "They're getting Hill and Coulson."

"Eat something," Steve interjected, his tone firm, "and be ready to suit up. We're moving out of here as soon as Natasha and Thor are back."

Silence reigned for the next few minutes as all of them applied themselves to their food. Tony assumed Sam must have eaten already, with the way he hurried back and forth doing whatever last minute things he seemed to think were necessary.

Less than five minutes after they'd all finished their meals -- just after the dishwasher had been loaded and started in a fit of domesticity -- Thor appeared with Hill and Coulson clinging to his armour. They stepped away from him the moment they were on their feet, and Thor immediately took back to the air. Likely going back for Natasha, Tony decided.

Steve was already on his feet and opening the French doors, so he could usher the newcomers inside. Since they were really starting to strain the capacity of Sam's house, now, Steve led them to the living room. Between the six of them, Sam, Hill, Coulson, and Rhodey, they took up quite a bit of space. And not just physically.

The rest of the team followed them into the larger space, rather than wait in the kitchen.

"Thor and Natasha fill you in?" Steve asked.

"They did." Maria looked grim. "I'd question your story, but weird things have been happening around SHIELD, starting right from the moment the announcement went out about the Director's death."

Coulson nodded. "We'll have to be careful; there's a very high chance we'll hit heavy resistance."

"The helicarriers will not be lightly defended," Thor rumbled, nodding, "but if we had shied from danger, we would not have succeeded against the Chitauri. Nor would we now be the response team that we have become, Son of Coul."

Tony watched as Steve stepped up next to the God of Thunder, his expression etched with grim determination, and added his support to the statement. "Are the two of you prepared to join us for this? I won't fault you if you'd prefer to just get us in and then leave the rest to us."

Hill scoffed. "We wouldn't have made it as high as we did in SHIELD if we weren't prepared to get our hands dirty."

Clint laughed outright. "Cap, I've seen Coulson disable a man with a bag of flour and a miniature socket wrench. On separate occasions."

"Agent Barton," Coulson replied calmly, "I'm sure you are aware that those missions have not been declassified."

Bruce shook his head. "Can we get this show on the road, then? Waiting around isn't that great for my blood pressure."

Steve nodded, taking charge as easily as he ever did. "Everyone know their roles and positions?"

He got 'aye's from everyone. "Let's do this, then. Those who need to suit up, get to it. Once you're on-task, keep an eye out for Bucky and let the rest of us know when and where he shows up. Clint, Rhodes, that's going to be primarily your job, as free agent and eyes in the sky."

Silently, they dispersed to get their gear. Most of them hadn't gotten into their costumes yet. Tony and Rhodey, somewhat to their own surprise, were among the first to be flight-ready. Bruce and Sam were first, and Tony suspected Sam had been walking around in that harness of his all day yesterday. Probably also slept in it. Natasha was second. They were next, and the others all finished soon after.

Less than two minutes later, they were on the move. Sam insisted on locking the door behind them. Tony laughed at him in the silence of his armour were no one would hear and be offended, but no one criticised.


	2. [[ Thor POV ]]

Their mission had been going well. The Man of Iron had given the Son of Coul the device he called a 'targeting blade,' for all that it in no way resembled a blade, and the three of them had been able to slip aboard the helicarrier without a confrontation. The pair of Agents working with their team on this mission had used their knowledge of the craft and the area in which they were housed to slip in, unnoticed, and taken their teams with them. It hadn't been clear to him until after they'd reached the helicarrier and crept aboard, that the Son of Coul had deliberately chosen a route with few of the automated warning devices that Midgardians favored.

No, the problem had come later.

Less than a Midgardian Minute after their entry of the large craft, some signal had gone out that the Son of Coul had recognized. Dr. Banner had noticed it as well, and was looking almost pained. Thor could hear it, too, now that he was listening carefully: an alarm was ringing elsewhere in the craft. Their handler had turned to them and sent them up to the main deck of the helicarrier, saying, 'our cover's blown; make me a diversion and engage the foot troops topside. I'm heading for the main console.'

As the Son of Coul had finished finished speaking, the helicarrier had lurched underfoot and begun rising into the air. That had been a clearer signal than the alarm that they would need to work quickly, if they wished to succeed.

Jerked out of his thoughts and back into the fight, Thor scowled and slammed Mjölnir down against the deck of the craft, creating a shockwave that sent men flying. Hulk obligingly caught two mid-air and slung them into two squads that were charging them in tight formation. A score of men went down like nine-pins[1], and Thor grinned fiercely. "Well thrown, friend Hulk!"

"Just hold their attention for another three minutes." The Son of Coul requested. He was linked into the team comms, for 'logistical reasons' as friend Tony had put it, and didn't hesitate to take advantage of it. "I'm replacing the targeting blade now."

"Aye," Thor replied, dodging attacks from men carrying the strange weapons they had discovered -- weapons which fired light that burned, "we shall, and with pleasure."

Not all of their opponents had such weapons. Most, indeed, carried the guns that were common to Midgard. Weapons which slung small projectiles through the air. Projectiles that he'd learned he could deflect with the magnetic fields his lightning produced, thanks to the Man of Iron's advice.

These strange weapons, though, were of a more sinister quality. Mjölnir could deflect the rays of light without so much as a scorch mark, for all that they injured him, and the light seemed to have little effect on the Hulk. Though the light they produced did not do more than enrage Hulk, or leave light burns on him, Thor had seen it vaporize one unfortunate soul who had gotten caught out of position. It was enough to convince him that the Captain had been correct in his suspicions that the weapons were certain to be more treacherous than they seemed.

Another broad swing of his hammer sent two men flying backwards into a nearby wall, and then Thor threw himself into the air. A group of men that had been half hidden behind one of the fighting craft on the deck shouted and fired at him. They missed, and Thor launched himself at them.

Thus far, though, Thor reflected as he called down the Living Lightning to ensure the fighters aboard stayed in their places on the deck, the Captain and the Man of Iron had been entirely correct in their respective assessments.

The Hulk spent his energy anywhere he could find something to destroy; he tackled the command tower near the midsection of the ship bodily, and began wreaking havoc there. Thor could feel the helicarrier list underfoot as a result of Hulk's efforts, even as he took advantage of the shift in the craft's attitude to send one of the jets that had broken loose of its moorings at a group of men firing at him.

The helicarrier stayed afloat, though, the emergency systems that the Man of Iron had surely designed taking hold and keeping the craft on a more or less even keel. Orange lights began flashing all over the main deck, and a pleasant female voice began speaking, her words going unheard thanks to the noise of the battle being fought.

The sounds of the other teams coming under attack began echoing over the comms, and Thor smiled grimly. This skirmish was well on its way to becoming a full-fledged battle, simply by dint of the sheer numbers of men that were being sent at them.

And the knowledge that they had a deadline was making Thor uneasy with the way the helicarriers were rapidly rising into the air, now that they had cleared the hangar doors, which happened to be in the ceiling of the large enclosure.

Hulk deemed the command tower disabled, then, and leapt down to land beside him with a grunt and a low growl. Thor looked up at him. "A wise move, my friend," he praised, knowing Banner would hear it, and Hulk grinned, pleased, "but we are not finished yet."

"Look alive," friend Clint called, "you've got more company incoming, Thor."

"How fare the other teams?" he called back, hefting Mjölnir and preparing himself for the next wave of attackers.

"Oh, yanno," the Man of Iron put in, "as per usual. We're fine for now. Explosions, chaos, unbeatable odds. Just another day at the-- ugh! At the office. Right, Cap?"

The Captain did not deign to reply to that, and Thor refrained from shaking his head at his teammates' antics. They all seemed to fight better, in fact, now that they were all sharing their beds, in the fashion of the Midgardian warrior bands of old. He saw nothing to criticise about the arrangement. Were he not entirely devoted to his Jane, Thor reflected, he would have been quite happy to join them.

"Facing heavy fire, here," the Subdirector added, as Thor fended off his attackers' first charge, "and I'm hit. Will these blades of yours still work if they're covered in A-pos, Stark?"

"Probably, but I'd rather not bet my life on it," the Man of Iron replied, and Thor could tell he appreciated the Subdirector's joke by the slight lessening of the strain in his voice. "See if you can't wipe it off on some goon's uniform first," he suggested.

"Copy that." The Subdirector sounded vaguely relieved, and Thor could sympathise. As outlandish and different as Midgard's technology was from Asgard's, he would not have known what to do either, had theirs gotten damaged. And the Man of Iron was as far at the forefront of Midgardian technology as it was possible to get.

"Blade replaced and secured. Bravo carrier changeover complete." The Son of Coul sounded almost calm, and Thor was impressed by the man's cool once more.

"Well done," he praised. "Leave the destruction to us, Son of Coul. We shall deal with the rest."

"War Machine," the Son of Coul wordlessly acknowledged the suggestion, "you free for a personnel evac in fifteen seconds?"

"Give me forty-five," the War Machine answered in kind, the sound of his weapons firing in the background of the comm line, "I'm a little tied up at the moment."

There was a brief pause, wherein the comm lines went quiet, save for the slight sounds of exertion that were picked up by their respective microphones. It did not last, however.

"Oh shit!" The Man of Iron swore loudly, shattering the oddly meditative moment and startling Thor into nearly missing the blow he was midway through making. "Cap, _duck_!"

A long moment later, the Captain spoke, breaking his comms silence. "I've got eyes on the Winter Soldier."

A pained grunt came over the line, then, but t'was not from the Captain. The Son of Coul sounded breathless as he spoke a moment later. "War Machine? I could really use a lift."

"On my way. Hold tight. Falcon, you available for free agent duties?"

"Not right now," the Falcon replied. "Get Coulson out of there, and get your metal ass back here ASAP, War Machine."

Thor relaxed his hold on Mjölnir, deeming the situation handled, but remained in his crouched and ready position on the balls of his feet. He could still hear Hulk's breathing even over the sounds of battle coming from the other craft. He looked around the deck at the remaining enemies, who were watching them warily, obviously hoping that by waiting them out they would catch them in a mistake. "Come, my friend. Let us destroy this craft and the evil it contains."

"Don't worry about any SHIELD casualties," Tony informed them, hearing the comment. "I've sent the word out via SHIELD's systems that the helicarrier crews should evac, and the alarms should have done the rest. We can assume anyone left is HYDRA or a sympathiser."

Hulk caught his eyes and asked hopefully, "Hulk smash?"

"Aye," Thor nodded. "Smash. I shall assist thee!"

Hulk bounded off with a gleeful bellow to begin demolishing the jets on the helicarrier's deck, one by one. Thor, turned to the group of men still watching him warily. "Have you decided who will attempt to best me?" he asked them, tone approaching idle. "I grow weary of waiting."

That finally goaded them into action. The entire group exchanged a look, then all nodded and charged him as one.

It did not take long to subdue them, and when he had, the helicarrier was beginning to list to port, flame and smoke pouring out of two of its four engines.

"I've got Coulson," the War Machine announced. "I'm taking him to Cowley Trauma[2] for treatment. He's hit pretty bad."

"I'll be--" the Son of Coul coughed wetly. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah," the Man of Iron shot back over the comm line, "as long as you let War Machine follow through on that suggestion. Get him out of here, Rhodey. We don't need a repeat of the stunt he pulled during the first helicarrier debacle."

"Charlie carrier changeover complete," the Subdirector announced as Thor contemplated checking on their valiant handler himself, a weary rasp in her voice. "Falcon is offering me a medevac, and I'm taking it. See you after this is over. Widow is free to begin infiltration of the compromised SHIELD servers."

"If the fair Widow should need assistance in reaching her destination," Thor offered, "I am free to do so."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, that carrier is looking nicely crippled. I'd say we can ask Hulk to help out on a different carrier if anyone needs an assist."

"Thanks, Thor," the Widow replied, "that would be appreciated."

"Uhn!" The Man of Iron sounded pained, and the Captain's wordless shout only reinforced the impression that something had gone wrong.

"Iron Man," the Widow called, "report!"

"Little busy, right now," came the reply, through gritted teeth. "Got a knife in me--" another pained sound, "-- and a brainwashed assassin trying to kill me." The sound of metal on metal rang out over the line, before the Man of Iron finished his instructions, "get that data; I'll be fine."

The Captain quietly added, "it's under control for now, Widow. Go."

"Copy that," she eventually replied. Thor could hear the reluctance in her voice, and had to agree with the sentiment. If someone were trying to kill one of his own, he would not have been as restrained.

"I'll meet you there, Widow," the Man of Iron told her, keeping his tone as firmly level as he could.

\------

[1] This game has been around forEVER, with the first records apparently originating in medieval Germany. [wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nine-pin_bowling) Click here to return to text.

[2] Cowley Shock Trauma Center is one of the best in the US, as the only integrated trauma hospital. There's a good reason for Rhodey to pick it over the others in the immediate area. [link to homepage](http://umm.edu/programs/shock-trauma) Click here to return to text.


	3. [[ Natasha POV ]]

The infiltration itself had gone off without a hitch, and that was enough to make Natasha nervous. It was never a good sign when things went off perfectly right from the start; that usually meant a lot of trouble later.

Hill had gotten them aboard, and her status as Subdirector, currently acting-director of SHIELD, had been enough to get them through the standard security checks. And Natasha herself was well-known within SHIELD. Between the two of them they were able to get Sam in without arousing much suspicion.

Outwardly at least.

Since the Helicarriers had not been manned 24/7, until now there was still quite a lot of chaos on board. Now that anything critical was suddenly being rushed to completion in preparation for their launch, there was a full staff aboard, right down to the SHIELD equivalent of a receptionist. It amounted to a lot of people that were potentially enemies to fight or allies that would need to be evacuated.

She and Hill had both taken care to keep any electronic record of Sam's presence to a minimum. There wasn't much they could do about the security cameras, but Tony would be dealing with them. Hill made sure to get him a generic visitor badge and introduce him as ex-Air Force, possibly interested in joining the organization. She gave the agent manning the desk a false name for their visitor, though. On the off chance that it would help.

"Really," Falcon grumbled mostly under his breath as they made their way through the carrier away from the 'front desk', "Sam Struthers? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Why do you even care?" Hill mostly looked curious.

Sam rolled his eyes and replied, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry. "That's about the whitest name you could have picked."

Natasha had to bite back her smirk. "At least she didn't pick something obviously false," she murmured. "She could have called you Clark Kent."

Sam groaned and let his head roll back until he could ask the ceiling. "Why me?"

"You threw your lot in with this team," Hill said, not bothering to hide her smirk. "It's your own fault."

They would have minimal comms contact with the other teams until their covers were blown, so they had no indication of how the others were doing, other than the knowledge that they were still theoretically in the clear. Bringing Hill into this as one of their moles was risky and might very well draw attention that they didn't want or need, but they'd had little choice in the matter. All they could do was act natural and hope that Zola's attention was elsewhere.

Of course, as she finished the thought alarms started going off. She allowed herself a brief twist of her lips that might have been a wry smile in a calmer moment; should have known better.

"Well," Sam quipped, "we've lost our stealth. Make a break for it?"

Hill nodded. "Time to get going."

Without wasting time talking, Natasha took point, leading the way deeper into the helicarrier. Things were about to get hairy, and the less time they lost, the better. At this point every second counted.

The others followed her, close on her heels, their weapons not yet drawn and their postures attentive. That way they would blend in well with the other SHIELD agents rushing around to get to their duty stations, as long as they didn't draw attention to themselves.

That plan lasted for about a hundred meters, and then they ran into a blockade or sorts. SHIELD agents stood shoulder to shoulder across the width of the hallway, two deep. Out in front of them stood an agent she hadn't worked with often, but knew by name. 

"Agent Ward," she greeted him. "We're escorting the acting Director to Central Command. We'd appreciate if you'd let us through."

The request got her a dark smirk. "I think not, Widow. We know what you're after, and I've been hand-picked to stop you."

Hill growled something about his mother and sheep under her breath. Sam snickered, evidently caught off-guard by the comment.

Ward snarled wordlessly. "I'll take payment for that out of your hide, Hill. Bravo team! Attack formation Foxhole!"

The two rows of agents behind Ward fanned out and closed with them, and a moment later Natasha had to trust that her two companions could hold their own against multiple opponents. The squad split into three groups of six, each smaller group zeroing in on one of them.

Hers were quickly taken care of; she grappled with the first one, deftly pulling him into a chokehold and using the leverage she had on him to swing her body up, parallel to the floor, and kick out, catching the next in the temple. The one she'd kicked went down immediately, unconscious, but she wasn't watching him. Natasha's attention was on the remaining four, evaluating, even as she swung her legs back down. The move put her back to back with the first man, and she flipped him over her shoulders, throwing him into the third. They went down in a tangled heap, and gave her a moment to regroup as the remaining three approached more cautiously. A savage smile on her face, Natasha let herself drop into a crouch, and swept the feet out from under the fourth man, who'd gotten impatient and rushed at her. A quick hit with her Widow's Bite ensured he would stay down, and she stood.

Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she advanced on the last two, throwing herself into the chokehold that Tony still jokingly referred to as the Thighs of Death, using her momentum to slam the fifth man to the floor. His head hit the linoleum tile and he stayed where he was, dazed. Another quick application of her Bites meant one less to worry about. The last man was wary, now, having watched all his compatriots go down in under thirty seconds. Natasha got the impression he'd have turned tail and run if Ward hadn't been standing behind him, and focused on trying to get to Hill. Deciding to be quick about dealing with him, Natasha pulled her pepper spray out of its little pocket, and dosed him as she threw herself at Ward.

Her arm going tightly around his throat and cutting off his air, Natasha used her left knee to pin one of his arms to his side. She'd caught him off guard, and that was good. Ward was a force to be reckoned with, and having the advantage now might make all the difference. A quick glance around the area revealed that the others were holding their own, for now.

He recovered quickly, though, as she'd expected, and tried to break free of her hold. The first, she managed to weather. The second, as well. But his third attempt, forcing her backwards until they slammed bodily into the wall, hard, worked. She lost her grip for a fraction of a second, and he took advantage of the small opening, breaking away from her and turning to face her.

"You're good, Widow," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, "I'll freely admit that. But you're outnumbered and outmatched, here."

She raised an eyebrow at him and said nothing. Boasting did nothing but waste breath, in combat. She waited him out, circling in the opposite direction to keep him in front of her when he stepped to his left.

"The silent treatment?" Ward laughed. "Won't help you here, honey. Give up now and we might let you live."

There it was, an opening in his guard. Ward was favouring his left side just slightly. Natasha smiled, letting the edge of the expression speak for her.

Ward shook his head, and rushed at her.

All it did was bring him into her reach. Natasha sidestepped his charge and let his momentum drive her own movements as she grabbed his upper arm near his shoulder and spun to put herself at his back again. This time, she was ready; she brought her free arm up before he could react, and used her Widow's Bite to knock him out, setting it to the back of his neck and using twice the charge she had on the other goons.

Once she was sure he was out, Natasha straightened and looked around. Sam and Hill had one opponent left apiece. Natasha stepped up to Hill's and knocked him out. Sam managed to deal with his a few seconds later.

Both of them were breathing hard, but they didn't protest when Natasha hustled them onwards. "Arm yourselves with their weapons," she said, suiting actions to words, and taking two guns off the unconscious goons, then stripping two more of their ammunition and stashing it in her various pockets as best she could. "We have to consider everyone aboard hostile from this point on and treat them as such."

"Right, right," Sam replied, following suit. "Disabling shots, yadda yadda."

Hill picked up Ward's semi-automatic rifle and slung it over her shoulder before she armed herself with two more handguns. "Let's move. We're on the clock."

Three corridors later, just shy of their destination, they were ambushed again. This time it turned into a gunfight. The moment they were spotted, their opponents opened fire. The team comms went live, a beat later, and Natasha ducked back under cover to listen.

Hill followed, but was a split second too late. She took a bullet to the meat of her right shoulder, and slapped a hand over the injury with a pained shout. "Motherfuckers!"

Had she still been standing in her chosen firing position, the bullet would have tagged her in the throat or the head and probably killed her almost immediately. Sam didn't bat an eye, and instead continued to return fire. "Put some pressure on that and wrap it with whatever you've got, Widow," he said, instead of rushing blindly over to help, and Natasha's estimation of him went up another few notches. "I'll deal with it properly later."

"Look alive," Clint called over the line as she started wrapping up Hill's arm with strips torn off Hill's own uniform pants, "you've got more company incoming, Thor."

The blood had already soaked through the front of Hill's uniform jacket by the time Natasha could get to her wound to dress it, and, with it, the pocket that held the replacement targeting blade they needed to install.

"How fare the other teams?" Thor replied to Clint over the sound of his hammer striking... something Natasha couldn't place. She was more focused on dealing with Hill's injury, doing her best not to let her hands slip in the wetness of the blood running down Hill's arm, and carefully trying not to jar Hill's arm much.

"Oh, yanno," Tony supplied his usual snark, "as per usual. We're fine for now. Explosions, chaos, unbeatable odds. Just another day at the-- ugh! At the office. Right, Cap?"

Steve said nothing, though, his line remaining quiet save for the distinctive clangs of his shield hitting various surfaces as he fought. Rhodey was silent, too, apparently saving his own breath for the fight.

"Facing heavy fire, here," Hill reported in, "and I'm hit. Will these blades of yours still work if they're covered in A-pos, Stark?"

"Probably, but I'd rather not bet my life on it," Tony said. "See if you can't wipe it off on some goon's uniform first," he suggested.

"Copy that." Hill sounded vaguely relieved. She switched her comm line from broadcast to mute and caught Natasha's eyes. "We need to move. _Now._ Otherwise we won't get through."

Sam nodded. "I concur. I'll provide covering fire. You ladies get the spotlight."

Hill snorted. "Your idea of a starring role is a weird one."

Natasha smiled. "Accurate, though. You take left, I'll take right." That arrangement would let Hill compensate for her injury as best she could, and maximise their effectiveness. "On three?"

Hill nodded. "Three!"

Sam sent their enemies ducking for cover with a spray of suppressing fire, and they took immediate advantage, charging down the short expanse of hallway. The moment before they reached their enemies' positions, three of them popped back out, weapons raised, and a chorus of startled shouts went up. Natasha ignored it, throwing herself at them as Sam ran up to join them and support Hill.

The first three went down to a swift sweep kick and her Widows' Bites. Sam took out two more with his pistols before the rest broke and fled.

"Right," Sam said, watching the last man disappear around a corner. "Now what?"

"Now," Natasha said, stretching her neck to loosen it and gestured to a biometrically locked door, "we need to get in there. And I'm pretty sure Hill's access won't work."

"Let's try it anyway," Hill said, pushing off the wall she'd been leaning on with a pained sound. "Can't hurt."

Natasha nodded. "Sam, cover us?"

"You got it." Sam waited for them to step up to the door, which was in a slight recessed area that sheltered it from view of the hallway, before he took up a position at their backs.

Hill stepped up to the palm-print scanner and put her still-bloody hand on it. The three of them waited, caught up in a moment of stillness, until the machine buzzed angrily, flashing a red banner at them. _Hill, Maria R. -- Unauthorized._ , it read.

"Let me," Natasha requested, and used her full weight -- concentrated in the point of her elbow -- to knock the scanner loose from its mount on the wall. Hill gave her a pointed look. Natasha ignored it in favor of pulling the scanner away from the wall and bypassing it entirely, very glad she'd asked Tony for the information on how to do that, through JARVIS.

A moment later, they were in, and securing the room. Natasha took up a position at the door, with Sam on the other side of it, both of them with their borrowed weapons at the ready.

As Hill worked to replace the targeting blade, Natasha tuned back in to the team comms, letting her team's voices wash over her.

"Blade replaced and secured. Bravo carrier changeover complete." Coulson sounded as zen as ever.

"Well done," Thor replied. "Leave the destruction to us, Son of Coul. We shall deal with the rest."

"War Machine," Coulson acceded without explicitly saying anything about it, "you free for a personnel evac in fifteen seconds?"

"Give me forty-five," Rhodey answered in kind, the sound of his weapons firing in the background of the comm line, "I'm a little tied up at the moment."

"Oh shit!" Tony swore loudly, breaking into the conversation and grabbing Natasha's full attention. "Cap, _duck_!"

A couple of seconds that felt like hours later, Steve spoke, breaking his uncharacteristic comms silence. "We've got eyes on the Winter Soldier."

It sent a shudder through Natasha. Of fucking course HYDRA would send the Winter Soldier against the two of them. They were the biggest threats to HYDRA on the team, and politically important targets, to boot. She viciously bit back the impulse to swear or rush off to help them. Generally speaking, they could take care of themselves against the calibre of enemies they usually went up against. Even if they tended to ignore injuries and any kind of sane limits. Against any other opponent, she was sure they would come out on top. Both of them would push themselves to their limits and beyond to do it. To win and beat back HYDRA. But they were currently up against a man who'd been Tony's lover. Who'd been Steve's best friend for literally decades. And he'd been kidnapped away to do HYDRA's will.

In effect, Barnes' memories had taken from him once more and his actions were not his own.

And that... That was their achilles heel, in this fight. He would be holding back, trying not to injure Barnes. So would Steve.

And Barnes _wouldn't_.

Natasha forced down another shudder.

Coulson was the next to speak over the comms; he sounded breathless and shaky, breaking into her thoughts and reminding her that they had other casualties already. "War Machine? I could really use a lift."

"On my way. Hold tight. Falcon, you available for free agent duties?"

"Not right now," Sam replied. "Get Coulson out of there, and get your metal ass back here ASAP, War Machine."

Thor was the next to speak, probably to Hulk. "Come, my friend. Let us destroy this craft and the evil it contains."

"Don't worry about any SHIELD casualties," Tony informed them, overhearing the comment. "I've sent the word out via SHIELD's systems that the helicarrier crews should evac, and the alarms should have done the rest. We can assume anyone left is HYDRA or a sympathiser."

"I've got Coulson," the War Machine broadcast. "I'm taking him to Cowley Trauma for treatment. He's hit pretty bad."

"I'll be--" Coulson coughed wetly. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah," Tony shot back over the comm line, "as long as you let War Machine follow through on that. Get him out of here, Rhodey. We don't need a repeat of the stunt he pulled during the first helicarrier debacle."

"Charlie carrier changeover complete," Hill announced over the team comms, a weary rasp in her voice.

Sam caught her attention. "We need to get you out of here, Hill, and to a hospital."

Hill just nodded, and added, over the comms. "Falcon is offering me a medevac, and I'm taking it. See you after this is over. Widow is free to begin infiltration of the compromised SHIELD servers."

"If the fair Widow should need assistance in reaching her destination," Thor offered, "I am free to do so."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, Bravo carrier is looking nicely crippled. I'd say we can ask Hulk to help out on a different carrier if anyone needs an assist."

"Thanks, Thor," Natasha replied, "that would be appreciated. Hawkeye, see if you can get Hulk to come demolish Charlie carrier a little before he goes to sleep."

She began making her way topside to meet Thor, walking alongside Sam and Hill for the first minute or so before Hill directed Sam to one of the sub-decks that opened out onto an open air cat-walk. Caution and instinct dictating her moves, Natasha hung around to watch their backs long enough to ensure they were safely away, then continued climbing. Three more sub-decks separated her from the main deck, and with a little bit of luck she might even get there without being discovered.

From the sub-deck catwalk, she headed for the fire escape, forced the one-way door open, and followed the stairs up.

To her surprise, it worked in her favor, and she saw no one until she hit the main deck. The moment she opened the door, chaos met her eyes, as Clint fired arrow after explosive arrow into the quinjets lined up on the deck as well as the groups of HYDRA goons rushing around, trying to keep him from doing so.

"Uhn!" Tony grunted, sounding startled and pained, and Steve's accompanying wordless shout of dismay only made the certainty that something had gone horribly wrong seem to take root in the pit of her stomach and spread like crude oil. Barnes must have done something. Gotten a hit in. Her imagination showing her all the worst possibilities, Natasha swallowed back the nausea that suddenly gripped her, her fear for Tony settling behind her sternum like a rock the size of her fist. _Please be alright._

"Iron Man," she called, knowing Tony would probably hear her fear and concern, "report!"

"Little busy, right now," came the reply through gritted teeth, simultaneously a source of relief and winding the knot tension inside her tighter. Tony continued speaking. "Got a knife in me--" he broke off to make another pained sound, "-- and a brainwashed assassin trying to kill me." The sound of metal on metal rang out over the line, before Tony finished his instructions, "get that data; I'll be fine."

The Captain quietly added, "it's under control for now, Widow. Go."

"Copy that," she eventually replied. Their words weren't making this any easier to bear, and she resolved to yell at Tony thoroughly after this was over. Even knowing that he had a healing factor, knowing that he was injured but not how badly was difficult to bear.

"I'll meet you there, Widow," Tony told her, keeping his tone as firmly level as he could.

Natasha could hear the strain in his voice despite his best efforts.

If Extremis couldn't fix it, though, there was no way she could get to him in time to help.

Steve would have to do it.


	4. [[Tony POV]]

The other teams would need to take the long way in, through the helicarriers proper. But, Tony smirked to himself, the two of them didn't have to. Steve was carrying the replacement targeting blade, and Tony would be their ticket aboard. And that meant they could simply zip directly up into the central console bay, thanks to Tony's contractor access. They would have to be very quick about it, though, and keep their faces off any cameras.

Extremis made that far simpler than it would have been otherwise. Tony could sense the signals of the cameras' transmissions, since they were wireless, and he took advantage of that to carefully freeze frame any feed that they would appear on. But only just long enough for them to get out of the frame. He'd done it for the other teams as well, albeit a little more clumsily, while he'd learned what he was doing. Never having attempted to use Extremis for this before, he'd had to experiment a little to get the result just right.

The less he interfered, the less likely they would be discovered before they could do what they needed to.

He'd shed his armour again once they'd gotten on-site, picking out a secluded spot at the edge of the Triskelion's grounds to do so, packing it back in its suitcase. Knowing that he'd be far less conspicuous in the street clothes he was wearing under it, he'd come prepared. Steve had given in to the necessity and thrown his worn leather bomber jacket over his uniform, and the shield on his back. It made Steve's profile look a little odd, but for now, he didn't stick out like a sore thumb, and draw fire. That was the important thing.

They'd managed to get into the building and down to the hangar without incident. That was kind of amazing, really, despite Tony's efforts to strategically blind the security cameras.

Now, they were casually approaching their chosen target. The other two teams were already aboard their assigned carriers, and Clint and Rhodey were in position and waiting, outside the range of SHIELD's immediate sensor net.

Tony was suddenly damn thankful that was the case.

"I feel like I have a huge target between my shoulderblades," Steve muttered, _sotto voce_.

Tony had to restrain an amused huff. "You do," he replied, just as quietly. "The shield counts." Leading Steve up the access stairs to the maintenance catwalk that still ran beneath the belly of the carrier -- this one was the farthest from completion, and that was why he had chosen it as his personal target -- Tony looked her over as best he could just at a glance. "I know what you mean, though. I feel watched, and not in a good way."

Somewhat to Tony's own surprise, the alarm didn't go up before they were aboard alpha carrier.

He'd taken the opportunity to put on his suit once they were aboard and out of sight of most of the goons rushing around the Helicarrier bay. There'd been a convenient little alcove near the entrance they'd used, that had relatively little camera coverage. Steve had followed suit, leaving his jacket where it was but jamming his helmet onto his head. That done, they'd moved as quickly as possible through the ship. They did still have to maintain their stealth as best they could when Tony was suited up.

The console room was filled with random crap, and kind of looked like the construction crews had been using it as a makeshift dumping ground for the debris that had accumulated during the build. Tony could see empty crates, packing foam, used caulk cartridges, broken tools, and, lying half on the console itself, a security door that looked like it had been sliced in half somehow. After someone had attempted to punch a hole in it.

A security door, mind you, that was intended for the armoury of the carrier, and, as such, was made of inch-thick steel layered with blast-resistant coatings and carbon fibre, and weighed nearly 340 kilos when intact. 

"Right," Tony shook off the train of thought and the odd foreboding it carried with it, and tried to focus on what they needed to do. "I've gotta log into the system first," he told Steve. "Help me shift this junk away from the console."

In answer, Steve simply picked up the door chunk that was blocking his physical access to the console and set it aside, propped against a wall.

Tony carefully didn't think about how hot that was. "You realise that probably weighed at least 170 kilos, right?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Focus, Iron Man," he replied, his tone dry but amused. "Get that blade replaced."

As if they'd been waiting for a sufficiently dramatic cue, alarms started blaring throughout the helicarrier right as Steve finished his sentence, and the craft began rising into the air. They were on a time limit now.

"Right. Focusing." The walls of the hangar slid past the room's windows as Tony quickly jumped through the hoops needed for the system to give him access to the blade cabinet, and impatiently made gimme motions at Steve until he was handed the replacement blade.

Actually physically replacing the blade was simple, but getting into the cabinet to do so wasn't. It was intentionally designed that way. It needed to be easily replaced in an emergency, but only accessible by authorised personnel.

That wasn't the problem.

No, the problem was Steve's sudden distracted query.

"Bucky?" he heard his lover ask, a sudden tension in his tone. Tony could tell from the way Steve's voice didn't echo through Extremis that Cap's comm wasn't transmitting. "You in there, jerk?"

There was no response.

Tony looked over his shoulder in time to see Bucky palm a knife.

"Oh shit!" he swore loudly, breaking into the conversation, and ignoring the fact that his comm line was currently live. "Cap, _duck_!"

Thankfully for Tony's state of mind, Steve reacted without questioning the order, and the knife flew through the air inches from his head. The Winter Soldier -- he obviously wasn't Bucky right now -- launched himself at Steve, grappling with him and doing his best to put Steve out of action for the moment.

It didn't last long before they broke apart, both breathing more heavily and eyeing each other warily. Steve looked like he was favouring his right side just slightly, and Tony suspected the Soldier had managed to crack a couple of Cap's ribs. Only a few seconds had passed in the interim, but they'd felt like hours. Steve spoke again, and this time Tony heard it twice. "We've got eyes on the Winter Soldier."

There was no reaction over the comms from the rest of the team, and Tony knew they were probably only managing to keep quiet so as not to break Steve's concentration. Or his own.

Deciding Steve had the Soldier's attention pretty firmly, Tony moved to slot the blade into place.

That, it turned out, was a grave tactical error.

Steve shouted wordlessly, surprised, and Tony turned just in time to see the Soldier rebound off a wall to tackle him. Tony went down, caught flat-footed, and the Soldier bore him to the floor. He hit the off-white linoleum with a crash, and rattled around in his suit. The impact wasn't hard enough to do more than daze him, but it was enough of an opening for the Soldier to tag him. Before he could break through the daze that the fall had caused, a sharp hot pain went through his left side, and he grunted. Extremis was already ramping up into overdrive, making the stab wound feel like someone had put a live ember in his side, but it couldn't close the wound or stop the bleeding properly as long as the knife was still in there.

Breaking out into a cold sweat as he tried not to let the fear and adrenaline flooding his system take the reins, Tony stared up at the Soldier from his position under him. Any sign of motion was likely to break the tableau, and he knew it. This was checkmate.

"Sir!" JARVIS sounded alarmed, as he broke his silence. "Please try not to move! Extremis can heal the stab wound easily, but the blade is positioned millimeters from your descending aorta."

Which would be much more difficult for Extremis to fix without the ridiculous accelerated healing factor he'd removed in favor of not exploding. Fuck.

And that knife was going nowhere as long as the Winter Soldier stayed perched on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He didn't want to use his left arm for fear of making the wound worse, and he didn't have enough power in his right alone to dislodge 82 kilos of assassin and another 10 of metal prosthetic.

Tony could feel the anxiety rising, trying to choke him, and knowing that Steve was holding back, not attacking for fear of spooking Bucky into doing more than just stabbing him wasn't helping.

Shouts echoed into the room from the corridor beyond the door, and Tony knew Steve would be torn between helping him or fending off the squads of goons that were surely coming at them.

"Iron Man," Natasha called over the comm, sounding afraid and stressed, "report!"

It broke into his thoughts, sending them scattering, but also somehow made the pain more immediate. It made him feel far too hot, the product of the adrenaline and Extremis' reactions to the injury. And the blood soaking into the undersuit wasn't helping matters either. That sticky clammy sensation was only making him more desperate to move and _get that knife out of his side_. 

"Little busy, right now," he gritted through his teeth once he had the presence of mind to reply to Natasha, knowing she needed to hear him speak. "Got a knife in me --" he broke off to make another pained sound as the Soldier shifted, putting pressure on the knife, "-- and a brainwashed assassin trying to kill me." The Soldier tried to use his prosthetic to punch him in the head, apparently tiring of waiting for him to make a move. Tony couldn't catch the blow, and the sound of metal on metal resounded through the helmet. The combination of the hit and the loud clang gave him an instant headache, and he took a steadying breath, before he finished his instructions, "get that data; I'll be fine."

Steve, still hanging back and keeping the room secured, quietly added, "it's under control for now, Widow. Go."

Tony could taste blood, and knew his lip had split.

They needed to figure out how to deal with the Soldier. Preferably five minutes ago.

"Copy that," Natasha replied.

"I'll meet you there, Widow," Tony told her, keeping his tone as firmly level as he could. He knew he wasn't going to fool anyone, but it might help them feel better about things. _got that sugar booster ready, j?_

"I do, sir," the AI replied quietly. "But might I suggest dealing with the Sergeant, first."

 _You think he wouldn't recognise you as his handler?_ The question Clint had asked him what seemed so long ago, floated back into his mind, and Tony decided to take a chance. He opened the faceplate and stared down the Soldier, ignoring Steve's unconscious sound of protest. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Asset?" he demanded, watching a shiver of emotion go through the Soldier. It wasn't recognition. Not quite.

It disappeared again almost immediately.


	5. [[ Tony POV ]]

Tony watched the Asset carefully, doing his best to ignore the knife in his side and the strange burning numbness that was starting to spread through him, seeming to radiate outward from the injury. He wasn't sure whether that was Extremis reacting oddly to the knife or a more natural physiological response to being stabbed.

The Winter Soldier stared down at him, his face contorted in a snarl, and ignored Steve's presence entirely. His metal prosthetic made a mildly horrifying screech of metal on metal when he adjusted his grip on the armour. Tony winced.

Tony tried again; he had to. "Your designation is James Buchanan Barnes, alias 'Bucky'," he stated, carefully not acknowledging the way Steve was doing his best to unobtrusively block the door and defend them, to keep HYDRA -- and himself -- from breaking the moment, "and your mission is in New York, not DC. Why are you here, Asset?"

Something about it -- Tony couldn't tell what -- seemed to get through, and the Soldier relaxed slightly. "Handler."

"That's right." Tony swallowed back the cautious hope that he would be able to get through this without further injury, and that Bucky would manage to fight his way free of whatever conditioning HYDRA had used on him. If it was already weakening enough that Tony could potentially break it like this, they must not have had a lot of time to work Bucky over.

The Soldier blinked, releasing some of the pressure he held on the knife. "If you are my handler, why am I under orders to kill you?"

"Corporate politics," Tony replied, his pained tone making it less a joke and more a statement of fact.

That comment, surprisingly, was the one to break the tableau wide open. The Soldier reeled back as though struck, and scrambled away to curl up in a ball with his back to a corner of the room. "No, no. Oh God," he managed, sounding just as pained.

Fuck. How was he supposed to talk Bucky down while Steve was fighting off all comers and he was down with a knife in his side?

Carefully, gingerly, he reached for the haft of the knife, protruding from the plates of his abdominal armour, wrapping his hand around it and pulled with a fraction of the armour's strength. The feeling of the metal sliding back out of him was worse than it had been going in, with the way the ragged edges of the blade caught and tore as he pulled. Tony bit back a pained groan and kept going. That knife needed to not be in him anymore so Extremis could fix him. It rasped harshly against the armour as it came out. Its surface was scratched badly and its edge mauled, but it came out. Millimeter by bloody millimeter.

Every harsh breath and sound of pain that escaped Tony as he worked the blade free seemed to fall on Bucky's shoulders like a 50 kilo weight, and stay there.

Once he'd pulled it out about an inch, he felt a pinch at the inside of his right arm; he didn't have access to the HUD, given that his faceplate was still up, but Tony knew without needing the HUD that was JARVIS pre-emptively starting the suit's med kit, and took care not to let it break his concentration.

When the knife was halfway out, Steve gave in to the need to say something. Off-comms he called, "a little help here? I can't hold them off forever on my own without leaving the doorway."

It didn't seem to register on Bucky, and Tony himself was still knocked flat. Hearing the urgency in Steve's tone, though, he pulled harder on the knife, hurrying the removal of the thing. "Be there in a minute, darling."

Just before it came free, though, the ruined edge of the knife caught on something and Tony hissed loudly. "Motherfucker!"

That seemed to finally break Bucky's paralysis. His emotional reaction wasn't gone -- Tony could still see the tangled mass of emotion all but boiling behind his eyes -- but he was suddenly back at Tony's side and helping gently work the knife free.

"Fuck, Tony, I--" He broke off.

Tony gave him a moment to finish speaking, and himself to hope Extremis had stopped most of the bleeding, then climbed to his feet. "Worry about that later," he told Bucky, putting an armoured hand to Bucky's face in an attempt to get him to focus on the fight they were in. "We've got a job to do."

Naturally, that was the moment that the HYDRA goons finally managed to overwhelm Steve and push him back far enough that they could stream into the room.

Tony could see Bucky's eyes narrow as he scanned the room, evaluating, and then he was throwing himself off to the left side of the room with a snarl, going after the HYDRA goons like a man possessed. When he reached the first goon, probably less than a second after he'd started moving, he ruthlessly knocked the guy out cold with his metal prosthetic, moving on to the next goon even before the first had crumpled to the ground.

Steve just watched him for a few long seconds, stunned by the ferocity of Bucky's counterattack, before he rejoined the fray. "You alright, jerk?"

Bucky growled, and laid out another goon with a clothesline and a sweep kick. "Physically, sure," he replied, his tone holding more than a hint of his tightly controlled rage and guilt. "They didn't want their asset to have to recover from injuries before sending him out on assignment."

After that, it was like watching a whirlwind; Steve helped, but it was mostly Bucky laying out HYDRA goons right and left, unerringly making his way to the engine room in what was clearly a bid to cripple the helicarrier. Tony put his faceplate back down and trailed along behind them, carefully favouring his side so that Extremis could do its thing without having to compensate too much for his movements, taking pot shots at anyone trying to flank or follow them.

He moved much more slowly in his armour than the other two, so he arrived at the engine room about ten seconds after they did. It was enough of a delay that he missed something important; he could tell. When Tony walked in, Steve was working the control panel frantically, trying his damndest to shut things down, and Bucky... was going toe-to-toe with a guy Tony didn't recognise.

It was clear Bucky did, though, from the way he was methodically doing all he could to force the guy into a corner. Tony saw him use his prosthetic to block three knife blows in the time it took to draw a breath. Tony needed another moment to find it, but when he spotted the tiny HYDRA insignia pin on the guy's collar, he smiled nastily. _j we got any knock-out darts left?_

"We do, sir."

_stand by to use them on this asshole but dont fire yet,_ Tony instructed, carefully circling around the pair to get to Steve. He didn't currently have a clean shot, and he wasn't about to risk Bucky getting caught in the crossfire if he could help it. Working with the electronics was something he would be a lot better at than Steve anyway. Even if Cap had been improving rapidly since he'd started spending time in the workshop asking JARVIS -- and Tony when he wasn't neck deep in engineering -- questions. "I'll deal with this, Cap," he said. "Go help Sarge."

It got him a startled look from Steve, and then a nod. "Right. Keep an eye out; I think Zola might be messing with the controls."

Cuing his comms, Tony called out, "Widow, status?"

"Inside the Triskelion." Natasha replied promptly, pausing for a beat in a way that suggested she'd just taken out a guard or something. "En route to server room."

"Keep off the cameras as much as you can," he reminded her. "Zola has to know we're gunning for him and the data he's protecting so carefully."

"Got our lost friend back?" Clint interjected.

"Yeah, but he's gonna need some R&R," Tony replied, knowing his tone had gone slightly distracted, as he started to push buttons and monitor the system's responses with Extremis. Sure enough, as Steve had guessed, _someone_ was interfering with the manual operation of the engines. Probably shunting the signal from the control board away from where it needed to go, Tony suspected. It was the simplest and most effective way to make remote control the only input that the engines would accept.

"That is good news," Thor put in, sounding like he was beaming despite the battle. Or maybe because of it. "I am certain our comrade in arms will be well taken care of once the battle is over."

Rhodey made an exasperated noise. "Do you guys always chatter so damn much over the comms?"

"Pretty much," Clint laughed. "How do you think we distract ourselves from the impossible odds?"

"I've got a problem," Sam called. "One of these HYDRA assholes managed to hit one of my thrusters, and my wings won't get me in the air."

"Stay put," Rhodey told him, tone tight, "I'm on my way."

After that exchange, Tony tuned out the chatter on the line and focused. He would only lose precious seconds by listening, and he needed to figure out how to reset Zola's hack.


	6. [[ Bucky POV ]]

He was going to pay dearly later for forcing himself to shove everything aside but the mission. He wouldn't -- couldn't -- think about what he'd done to Tony or he'd about fall apart at the seams.

Knowing full well that the other two would be able to read his expression, Bucky turned and flung himself at the HYDRA agents shoving past Steve in a bid to keep the three of them pinned in the console room.

That wouldn't do.

He took in the situation with a quick glance around the room and launched himself at the nearest goon with a snarl. The guy happened to be on Bucky's left side and nearly halfway across the room, not that that was anything approaching an impediment to someone with his skill set. Bucky threw his left elbow, catching the guy on the point of his chin, and didn't linger to watch him collapse like a cheap table.

The second and third men were dealt with almost as easily, and then Steve was back at his side as they burst back through the door to deal with the goons in the hallway. They fell into a rhythm, and didn't falter even when Tony started backing them up with his repulsors. After a beat, Steve asked, "You alright, jerk?"

The question reminded him of the things he was trying not to think about and Bucky growled out loud, angry and frustrated, as he laid out one more HYDRA agent with a clothesline and a sweep kick. "Physically, sure," he replied, his body continuing to move, almost automatically. He tightly controlled the rage he felt at being taken so easily in the first place and the guilt he felt at hurting Tony. Tony, who had given Steve a home, and then offered it to Bucky as well. Who had done his damnedest to help keep Bucky stable while they worked past his programming. Who had allowed him to join in the relationship he was at the center of. Once he'd worked past those distracting thoughts, Bucky added with as flat a tone as he could manage, "they didn't want their asset to have to recover from injuries before sending him out on assignment."

Steve winced visibly, and shut up. Bucky carefully didn't think about the way Tony was keeping his silence. Whether it was because he was hurt or because he was upset didn't matter. Either possibility was somewhere between terrifying and physically painful in that visceral way that made his throat close up and his skin go tight. 

The HYDRA agents just beyond the console room doors handled, Bucky snatched one of the unconscious goons' guns, checked it, then took the lead without looking at Steve, and started carving himself a path toward the engine room.

He might not be a computer whiz like some people, but he knew how to disable a ship.

Bucky didn't linger on thoughts of how he'd gotten that knowledge.

Or much of anything else.

His head was throbbing with that blinding kind of pain that gave everything halos, like it had after he'd gotten his memories back the first time, but there was no time to go hunting for painkillers that would work. And they would take longer to take effect than the battle would, at this point. The main concern in his mind was that it would make aiming somewhat more difficult.

It took them less than five minutes to reach their destination, though Tony was lagging behind somewhat by the time they got close. Steve went back to help him, and Bucky didn't begrudge either of them that. He felt better knowing that Tony had Steve at his side, and took the opportunity to continue on his quest to sabotage the ship.

The engine room was a cul de sac and large enough to hold a squad comfortably. It would be defended, as one of the crucial ship systems, and it would make a very defensible position, to boot. Anyone waiting inside would have a distinct advantage unless he was prepared to attack the moment he was through the door. Not that Bucky had any intention of letting that stop him. He was not about to let HYDRA get this ship high enough in the air to arm its weapons, even if the targeting system had been replaced, now. With Zola in the computer systems, it was possible that he could override the new system that Tony had installed, and go on his killing spree regardless of their efforts.

Stepping up to the engine room door, he simply kicked it down, breaking it off its hinges, and tucked into a roll as he went over the threshold. Coming up with his gun pointed, he scanned the room and froze.

"So," Rumlow laughed nastily and prowled towards him, careful to stay out of easy reach, "you went AWOL after all. How did you manage that?"

Bucky sneered. "I have my ways. What are you doing hiding here, Agent Bootlicker?"

"You'll pay for that," Rumlow snarled, pulling his own sidearm from its holster and fired, without hesitating.

Bucky didn't flinch. The bullet grazed the shoulder of his prosthetic and he raised an eyebrow at Rumlow, taunting. "What was that, a warning shot? Usually your aim is better. Not that you were ever at my level, and the higher-ups knew it."

That goaded Rumlow into charging at him, and Bucky dodged right. Rumlow grabbed empty air, but didn't stop to regroup. He simply redirected the momentum into a lunge, planting his boot high on the wall to help him change directions.

Bucky ducked, throwing Rumlow over his shoulder and turning to throw a punch, his pistol still in his hand. He flipped it, so that the butt would take the impact with Rumlow's face, and used its added weight to make the blow _hurt_.

It knocked the asshole flat on his ass and their eyes locked for a long moment. Wiping at the blood trickling from his split lip, Rumlow stood.

Bucky fired, his aim true, and the bullet lodged itself in the joint of Rumlow's left shoulder, making it all but impossible to move the arm. Rumlow straightened, his left arm dangling uselessly, and wiped at his face with the other forearm. He didn't take his finger off the trigger of his own gun.

"What's wrong, Rumlow," Bucky taunted him. "Getting old?"

"I'll show you old!" Rumlow shot again, and this time he picked his target more carefully.

The shot bounced off Steve's shield, where he stood beyond the door with Tony guarding his back, ricocheting and embedding itself in a wall. Bucky took aim one last time -- and Rumlow fell, a neat hole between his eyes.

Steve gave him a Look, but Bucky ignored it.

After a beat, Steve sighed. "Did you have to do that, Buck? We could have tried to pry answers out of him later."

"You wouldn't have been able to." Bucky decided to let Tony start working while he dealt with Steve, and stepped to one side to let Tony get to the consoles behind him. "You have no idea who that is."

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "That's -- well, was -- Agent Brock Rumlow, one of SHIELD's strike team leaders."

"And," Bucky stressed the word, "the HYDRA sniper known as Crossbones. Possibly the most sadistic son of a bitch I've ever met."

Tony yelped loudly, interrupting the argument. Steve grumbled something under his breath that Bucky ignored, then added, "we'll finish this later."

"Fine." Bucky turned away to bar the door as best he could and set to work disabling the engines. He wasn't sure what Tony was doing, but it was clearly a lot more esoteric than what he had in mind. What he did took under five minutes, and only took that long because Tony's cursing and carrying on was very distracting.

"Right," Bucky called straightening from his position half-crouched next to one of the consoles to Tony's left. "Engines are offline and ought to stay that way unless someone manages to come in and troubleshoot them one at a time," he reported, and got a nod from Steve. Tony was staring fixedly at the screen of the console in front of him and code was streaming by faster than any human could type it. Pages upon pages -- probably half a ream, at least -- went by, interspersed by more curses and swearing, as Bucky watched for a few seconds.

With a mental shrug he settled himself facing the door of the room, ready to take out anyone who tried to get at the others.


	7. [[ Tony POV ]]

"Did you have to do that, Buck? We could have tried to pry answers out of him later." Steve was _glaring_ at Bucky. The sight would have made Tony snicker, amused, but he knew Steve would only start glaring at him if he did. So he forced himself to stifle his, admittedly very inappropriate, reaction.

"You wouldn't have been able to." Bucky replied, and stepped to one side. "You have no idea who that is."

Tony took advantage of the movement to get to the consoles behind Bucky, who seemed to be repressing every emotion ruthlessly right now. Setting aside the knowledge that they'd have to piece Bucky back together later, Tony focused on the task at hand: shutting down Zola so Natasha could get to the server data.

To do that, he'd have to find a way to force Zola into a server sector that could be isolated from the rest long enough for Natasha to yank it out, or to sever all of Zola's communications. And that, in turn, meant finding him.

Settling in to start tracking down Zola remotely, Tony reached out through Extremis. The console in front of him 'felt' like as much of a cul de sac as this room was, with the way all the incoming and outgoing ports were plugged up tight.

Well, he amended the thought, all but two. Those would likely be Zola's connections to the helicarrier systems, and monitored closely. Probably used actively. And, yep, there he was now, peeking into the helicarrier systems to reset the engines again and prevent Bucky from shutting them down manually before scurrying away like a cockroach.

With all the chaos outside, Tony was frankly surprised that Zola had the attention to spare to keep an active sliver of his attention on this.

But then again, Tony wasn't in the habit of underestimating his opponents, and Zola had already proven to be damn hard to pin down.

Somewhat to his surprise, Tony discovered that his contractor access -- which he'd hacked earlier and reinstated -- was still valid, and took advantage of it to reopen one of the blocked ports, once he was sure Zola's attention was elsewhere.

It triggered an alarm that felt like it was screeching down his nerve pathways to tingle in his fingertips, and Tony yelped, his concentration temporarily broken.

_zola you motherfucker_ , he grumbled at JARVIS, scowling darkly. JARVIS replied via the armour's systems with what roughly translated into wordless agreement.

Reaching out to shut the alarm off, and knowing that he almost certainly had Zola's attention now, Tony focused down. He could feel his body go distant as the code took over, and he started writing. One of the best things about Extremis was the ability it gave him to write code as quickly as he could think, and he took full advantage of that, now. Distantly, he knew that the code was showing up on the console screen in front of him, scrolling by at a furious pace, and that Steve and Bucky were covering his back.

Much more immediate in his mind was Zola's attempt to counter his actions.

A few data packets worth of text were sent to display on the console as the ports he'd opened slammed shut again, on his metaphorical fingertips. _A nice attempt, Mr. Stark,_ Zola sneered at him, green text on black screen, _but I still have the upper hand._

Tony couldn't help but scoff silently at the crude measure. To hear Steve tell it, Zola had been expert in the occult, but it appeared that computers weren't his forte, for all that he'd let himself get turned into one, and Tony had assumed he'd have spent the time to learn over the years.

Maybe Zola was just that arrogant.

Well, Tony smirked nastily, Zola was about to get a lesson in what happened when you messed with what Tony considered his. Steve and Bucky might not yet have attained the same level of belonging that Pepper and Natasha had, but they had wormed their way into Tony's life, and that counted too.

Examining the blocked ports revealed that, as he'd suspected, Zola had used brute force to shut them. It would be easy enough to circumvent. But he would have to opt for either speed or stealth. Or both.

Designing a packet encryption program specifically for this hack took him on the order of fifteen seconds; he'd done this in a number of variations before, for the armour and for other applications, and he knew what the building blocks looked like and how to adapt them to fit his purposes. All he needed to do in the moment was decide on an approach.

In the end, he opted for a blend of encryption and speed. His on board processing power aboard the armour was limited, and he didn't want to have to rely on the helicarrier systems that Zola would be blocking.

Coding what he wanted took about the same length of time. Satisfied, Tony checked his code, watching JARVIS do the same. That should keep Zola from immediately working out what he was up to.

Then he added a script to spoof the packets exchanged between Zola and the helicarrier. If he could piggyback in on that connection instead of forcing his own open, Zola might not even notice. And if he did, it would take him time to first find and then decrypt the packets enough to determine their origin. That was time that Tony could use to secure his own connection, and lock Zola out.

The last thing he would need would be root access. But he would have to hack that on the fly. Without knowing where the permissions files had been moved to -- and Tony was sure they had been moved; even the most oblivious user could figure out that something like that was important to keep out of someone else's hands -- he would have to track it down manually. But once he had it, he ought to be able to take Zola back off root and then blockade him into a corner, system by system.

There were two main possibilities that he needed to plan for: either Zola had chosen to keep his memory coherently stored on a single server, or he'd decided to go for a distributed cloud-computing approach, with bits and pieces of him scattered throughout the entirety of SHIELD's server farm. If the latter was the case, Tony knew he would need a lot of time for his hack; to pull it off would require him to first find all the pieces and then individually determine what each of them was to isolate the core files that were in control of the whole.

He really hoped that Zola had gone for the first option, thanks to its higher efficiency and lower latency, even if the decentralised approach had the advantage of being harder to find and kill. They really could use a break right about now, after all the crap they'd fought through to get here.

_j do me a favor and let widow know that she'll have to be ready to pull the server data the moment we have Zola pinned down,_ Tony requested, and went back to his hack.

JARVIS had his back, and Tony was confident that the AI would do as he asked, so Tony chose to start up his program and watch its progress.

A quick glance at the time revealed that he'd been working for just over two and a half minutes, now, and he suppressed his bemused reaction. If he'd been doing this the old fashioned way, with a keyboard, it would probably have taken him two and a half hours to get to this point, limited by his typing speed as he would have been.

The first set of return packets arrived, then, distracting him from his thoughts with information on his target, and what it told him was downright frightening in its implications.

He wasn't fighting one copy of Zola, but _three_.

That amounted to one for each helicarrier, kept in sync by the same network that ran the targeting systems and satellite uplink.

"Motherfucker," he cursed aloud, knowing that the others would hear and probably not like the tone of his voice.

"What is it, Iron Man," Steve asked him without looking away from the door of the room. Bucky was still hurriedly disabling the engines.

Tony would have cursed some more, but there really was no time to waste on such gestures. "Got a problem, Cap," he responded instead, making sure his comms were on.


	8. [[ Tony POV ]]

Diving back into what he was doing in an almost literal fashion, Tony felt the world fall away again as he started planning. He would have to sever the Zolas' connections to one another first. Otherwise the other two would only coordinate their counterattacks on him. Then the team would have to find a way to destroy all three sets of servers. Which also meant destroying all three helicarriers, rather than just disabling the targeting systems and engines.

Steve sounded grim, but distant. "What problem?"

"Well, there's a copy of Zola on each of the 'carriers. I can sever their connections to each ship and each other, but we'll have to destroy the carriers as thoroughly as possible and be very careful about the data we steal off the SHIELD servers at HQ."

There were several overlapping shouts of dismay and horror hard on the heels of that statement.

"How are we--" "--can't just drop them in the river--" "--what about Sarge--" "Iron Man you'd better--"

"All of you shut up," Steve called back. "Anyone able to get to Bravo and Charlie carriers to redirect their flight out over the ocean, sound off!"

There was a brief silence that felt like all of them had physically exchanged looks, despite their lack of physical proximity to one another.

Eventually Rhodey replied. "I can get to Charlie carrier, if Tony can get Zola offline. The access corridors to the engine room should be possible to get to from the outside if I'm clever about it."

"I'm going with you," Sam put in. "You'll need the backup, War Machine."

"Okay," Steve agreed. "Wait for Iron Man's go, then get in and out as quickly as you can. Anyone else?"

No one replied for a long moment. Steve nodded. "War Machine, Falcon," he called. "Can you get to Bravo carrier, too?"

"Depends on how fast we have to be." Rhodey sounded slightly strained.

"After I cut the communications between the helicarriers," Tony replied, "you have until they go up again, and I intend to make that take as long as possible. Minimum of ten minutes."

"Then I think it ought to be possible as long as we don't get into any big firefights," Sam put in. "Come on, War Machine," Tony could hear the grin in his voice, "let's go kick some ass and blow shit up."

"Copy that, Falcon."

Steve turned back to the comms. "Widow, how are things on your end?"

"I'm in position, and ready to transmit the data back to JARVIS. Getting back out might be more difficult than getting here was," she replied. "Tell Iron Man to get on with it. The longer I'm here the more likely that I'll get found."

"Understood. Hawkeye?"

"I've got eyes on Hulk and Thor. They're taking on a bunch of goons on Bravo carrier's upper deck, and raising hell doing it," Clint informed them. "I'm good where I am for now, but I might need a quick exit if anyone comes at me."

"I shall wait for your call, then, friend Hawkeye," Thor answered, sounding like he was enjoying this whole chaotic battle far too much, "and carry you to safe remove, should you need it."

Tony rolled his eyes, then went back to coding.

Reactivating his use of the idling connection he'd hijacked, he cracked his metaphorical knuckles. He would have to plan this carefully and then make sure everything happened in quick succession, and in the correct sequence.

Preparing the list of commands for execution and taking into account how long each would take was the complex part, from a logistical point of view.

He would have to set himself up as root, then kick Zola off, and that would take the longest. Severing the communications with the satellite and between the helicarriers would be quick, after that. All he'd have to do would be remotely disable the satellite communication modules and ensure that only a full hardware reset would bring them back up.

Carefully, Tony began searching for the permissions file. He started with the location he'd picked out for it, and immediately found something. But a glance through the file proved it to be a decoy. The file was empty.

For the OS to recognise the file, however, it would have to be in the same folder. It had obviously been renamed though, and that meant he'd have to test each file in the folder.

Checking them all sequentially would tip his hand too soon, though. Tony started querying random folders and files inside them, not bothering to do more than open them and let them sit in the system memory, while he focused on the relevant queries that he sporadically put in the queue.

It took a while, in relative time. On the order of seconds in realtime, but it felt like forever when he was counting time in CPU cycles. When he had it, he felt Zola's attention shift. Yeah, the asshole knew something was happening. Probably had eyes on that file.

Couldn't be helped.

Quickly, Tony copied the file to his local storage, and let go of the server copy. He sent a few commands to make a mess server side and distract his opponent. It would mean revealing his presence, albeit indirectly, but that bought him time to edit the permissions file and overwrite the server copy while Zola cleaned up the chaos he'd caused.

Skimming through the file, he found Zola's credentials -- the lazy asshat was using the standard encryption Tony had designed without bothering to make any changes -- and made note of them. Editing the file to demote Zola to guest user, and give himself superuser privileges once again, Tony smirked. He was going to _enjoy_ this.

A little revenge for the elevator trick Zola had played on them was definitely in order.

Taking advantage of Zola's credentials, he copied the new permissions file into the correct folder and watched the change sync to the copies on the other helicarriers with a muted kind of glee at how easy this had turned out to be despite his fears. His opponent flailed for a few CPU cycles, wondering why the system commands he gave no longer worked. It took several tries for the change to register as more than a simple error.

Then Tony throttled Zola's satellite bandwidth and stopped the syncing between the three copies cold. 

Suddenly limited to less than a tenth of what he'd had previously and cut off from his other copies of himself, Zola finally started to realise he'd been outwitted, and it was ever so satisfying to watch.

In a desperate attempt to fix the situation, Zola tried to reset his satellite communications modules, and came up short again, when his new permissions didn't allow him to do so.

System by system, Tony reined the local copy of Zola in, until he had no permissions left whatsoever. He repeated the procedure remotely on the other two 'carriers, but much more abruptly. He simply cut them off immediately and watched to make sure neither found a way around his measures.

"Widow," he cued his comm, only then registering the sounds of Bucky and Steve fighting what was probably two squads of HYDRA goons, "get the data upload started and get out. I've got him."

"Copy, Iron Man. Upload commencing now." Natasha sounded vaguely relieved.

"Sir," JARVIS put in, speaking aloud, "satellite uplink with SHIELD HQ is now active, and server data is downloading."

 _keep an eye out for any more copies of zola,_ Tony sent back. _last thing we need is to have him loose on our servers._

Tony got the impression of an offended huff before JARVIS responded. "Of course, sir. I have prepared an isolated sandbox environment for the download."

Disconnecting from the carrier's servers and turning Extremis back down, Tony abruptly felt solidly anchored in his body again and staggered for a moment, disoriented. He recovered quickly, though, and dove back into the fray.

"We're done here," he announced to his teammates. Using his armour to simply plow bodily through the crowd of HYDRA goons, sending seven sprawling to the floor, Tony grinned when he saw both Steve and Bucky adjust seamlessly for the change in the situation. Both of them simply followed his lead without missing a beat, letting Tony lead them to the upper deck of the ship.

When they got there, the open air called to him too strongly to deny, and Tony was airborne without even thinking about it.

"Iron Man," Steve called, "back up Widow. Then I want both of you back here with me. Buck and I'll work on taking out the command center, here."

"Cap," Rhodey put in, "Charlie carrier is on course to crash offshore. Heading to Bravo carrier."

"Copy. We'll rendezvous with Agents Coulson and Hill after Insight is dealt with."


	9. [[ Natasha POV ]]

It had been surprisingly easy to get through SHIELD HQ to their main server room and uplink, thanks to the staffing and crew requirements of the three Insight helicarriers. The sudden launch of the carriers had stripped the Triskelion of all but a skeleton crew, and made slipping quietly through the building far easier than it normally would have been.

That didn't mean that there was no one to avoid, however.

Carefully keeping out of the camera's field of view, Natasha skirted the corner of the corridor that came up on her right and waited for the pair of rushed footsteps she could hear to pass by and fade again before she slipped onward.

Silently disabling the fire escape door and climbing three floors, she took a moment to take stock. She had almost no explosives left after the battle on the helicarrier and her entry into the Triskelion, and she'd used up all of her ammunition on the HYDRA goons that had been trying to kill them after the successful replacement of the targeting blade, including what she'd stolen.

Thor's assistance had gotten her to the terrace located about halfway up the superstructure of the building. It was the entry point closest to the server room, which was located almost exactly at the center of the facility, and therefore a better starting point than the roof or the front door. But getting in had required her to use her supply of miniaturised explosive charges.

Natasha had to suppress a fond smile at the memory of the day Tony had presented them to her. She hadn't ever revealed when her actual birthday was, so Tony and Pepper had arbitrarily picked one for her.

Refocusing on her mission, though, Natasha's small smirk faded back into solemnity. She would still have to get from her position in the fire escape to the server room itself, and this was the stretch of her path that was simultaneously impossible to bypass and the most closely guarded. There was only one way into the server rooms, and it was closely guarded with cameras and biometric locks.

Tony had never met an electronic lock that didn't fall open in his hands, though, Natasha reflected. And she was no novice script kiddie, either.

From here, what she needed to do was find an unwatched computer terminal with access to the correct systems, and take advantage of it to get in. There was one in the security office for this sector of the building, and that was where she was headed. The server room itself was another four floors above her current position, and deeper inside the building.

Shaking off her contemplative mood, Natasha deftly forced the mechanism of the door. It was designed to only open in one direction, but a quick jolt from her Widow's Bites overloaded the electronics in the latch and made the door pop open just enough for her to grab it and lever it open until she could slip through and close it quietly behind her.

If her actions set off any kind of alarm, it was likely to either go unnoticed in the current chaos or call the fire department -- who would already either be on the scene or be watching carefully from a distance to determine how to proceed.

The twenty-five meters between the fire door and her target passed quickly, and then she was forcing yet one more lock. No time for finesse, here. Not when the rest of the team was doing their best to keep the attention off her. She'd already wasted enough time in the fire escape stairwell, planning.

Kicking the door open and tucking into a roll as she dove through it, Natasha took in the layout and single occupant of the room at a glance. Taken by surprise as he was, the guy didn't stand a chance against her. Extending the roll into a tumble and smoothly standing when he was in arm's reach, she had the man in a chokehold before he'd even properly registered that she was in the room.

She held him tightly, ignoring his struggles, and laid him out on the floor once he was unconscious, zapping him once with her Widow's Bites just to be sure that he would stay out long enough for what she needed to do.

Under a minute later, she had access to the server room and the footage from the camera feeds along her route looped.

As she exited the room, her comm clicked active and JARVIS' voice sounded. "Agent Romanov," the AI said in his accented tones, "sir would like me to inform you that he is working on pinning down Zola, and that the best course of action would be to begin the data upload as soon as Zola is contained."

Natasha didn't respond verbally, only tapping the comm mic with her finger in Morse code. _C-O-P-Y._

No one appeared to bar her path as she made her final approach to the server room itself, and she wasn't sure whether that boded well or not. Successful infiltrations were boring, and this one had all the earmarks of a good run. But she wasn't up against any normal kind of enemy, here. Going up against HYDRA officially threw the rulebook out the metaphorical window.

Her instincts said that either someone would be lying in wait for her inside, or setting an ambush to catch her when she tried to make her exit.

"What is it, Iron Man," Steve asked, voice carrying over the comms, probably unintentionally.

Tony replied, though. "Got a problem, Cap," he responded, sounding caught between stress and cold anger.

Carefully maintaining her focus, Natasha stepped up to the biometric lock on the server room door and disabled it like Tony had taught her. An elbow to its upper surface with most of her weight behind it broke the unit loose from the wall, and let her access the debug panel and fuses. A twist of her fingers disconnected a very specific wire, and then she was pushing the whole mass of wires and the lock itself back into the wall to hide her tampering as the door slid open.

"What problem?" she heard Steve ask as she stepped through into a dark room and carefully closed the door behind her, voice solemn and verging on grim.

She stood perfectly still for a long moment, listening. If there was anyone else in here, their presence was being very effectively masked by the whirr of the server fans.

Natasha began checking the room, when Tony came back on comms to reply to Steve. He sounded almost as concerned, but distant in a way that she associated with Extremis use. "Well, there's a copy of Zola on each of the 'carriers. I can sever their connections to each ship and each other, but we'll have to destroy the carriers as thoroughly as possible and be very careful about the data we steal off the SHIELD servers at HQ."

That announcement naturally set off a chaotic series of overlapping exclamations from the rest of the team. "How are we--" "--can't just drop them in the river--" "--what about Sarge--" "Iron Man you'd better--"

"All of you shut up," Steve's voice cut through the babble, command clear in his tone. "Anyone able to get to Bravo and Charlie carriers to redirect their flight out over the ocean, sound off!"

That very effectively silenced the yelling. The comm line was quiet for a long few seconds as all of them took stock of their situations before replying.

After what felt like a short eternity, Rhodey spoke up. "I can get to Charlie carrier, if Tony can get Zola offline. The access corridors to the engine room should be possible to get to from the outside if I'm clever about it."

"I'm going with you," Sam added as she finished clearing the room and settled herself at the main console that would allow her access to the system. "You'll need the backup, War Machine."

Waiting as patiently as she could without touching the console's controls, Natasha listened to the conversation.

"Okay," Steve agreed to Sam's suggestion. "Wait for Iron Man's go, then get in and out as quickly as you can. Anyone else?"

No one answered. "War Machine, Falcon," Steve called. "Can you get to Bravo carrier, too?"

"Depends on how fast we have to be." Rhodey sounded slightly strained.

"After I cut the communications between the helicarriers," Tony replied, "you have until they go up again, and I intend to make that take as long as possible. Minimum of ten minutes."

"Then I think it ought to be possible as long as we don't get into any big firefights," Sam put in. "Come on, War Machine, let's go kick some ass and blow shit up."

"Copy that, Falcon."

Natasha could tell both of them were grinning, flying high on the adrenaline of the fight. It made a small fond smirk tug at her lips. She'd liked Rhodes as much as she'd disliked Tony at the beginning, and that innate approval had only increased the longer she'd known him. It had been the first clue that she'd gotten that she might have been wrong in her assessment of Tony.

Granted, in large part that assessment had been on Nick's orders; a way to leave Tony the freedom to continue to act more or less independently of SHIELD. But she'd actually agreed with most of it when she'd written it. It had only been after she'd spent enough time around him, playing the role of Pepper's PA, that she'd realised just how much of that was a mask. Much like the ones she wore when she worked.

Walls that he kept shored up between his real self and the world at large, to keep it from devouring him whole.

Steve cued the comms again, then, asking for her attention this time and breaking her out of her thoughts. "Widow, how are things on your end?"


	10. [[ Natasha POV ]]

"I'm in position, and ready to transmit the data back to JARVIS. Getting back out might be more difficult than getting here was," Natasha told Steve. "Tell Iron Man to get on with it. The longer I'm here, the more likely that I'll get found."

She could easily picture Steve's acknowledging nod, which he used even on comms. It was one of those quirks she found oddly endearing. "Understood," he replied, then continued working through his mental list of missing check-ins. "Hawkeye?"

"I've got eyes on Hulk and Thor. They're taking on a bunch of goons on Bravo carrier's upper deck, and raising hell doing it," Clint answered, the usual zen in his voice that he used when he was focusing on his sharpshooting. "I'm good where I am for now, but I might need a quick exit if anyone comes at me."

"I shall wait for your call, then, friend Hawkeye," Thor reassured him, sounding like he was enjoying this whole chaotic battle far too much, "and carry you to safe remove, should you need it."

About a minute later, by her count, Tony finally gave her the go-ahead. "Widow," he said, "get the data upload started and get out. I've got him."

Happy to finally be able to get started on her task and get the hell out before she got discovered, Natasha replied. "Copy, Iron Man. Upload commencing now." She plugged in the little USB drive Tony had handed her earlier that morning and only then booted up the console in front of her. She reflected as she waited for the device to do its work and get her past the security systems Tony had designed. Natasha knew her tone would sound relieved to Tony. Almost no one else would have picked up on it, but he had spent enough time around her. Clint would have heard it, as well. Neither of them commented on it, though.

Then she was in, and setting the thoughts aside in favor of opening a connection to JARVIS via the satellites Tony had set up for his StarkPhone line, and starting the data flowing. A few commands to the system kernel gave the data transfer priority and allowed JARVIS to siphon everything off the servers with all the speed both ends of the connection offered.

An acknowledgment from JARVIS appeared briefly on the console screen before vanishing as though it had never been, the AI taking its master's tips to heart and erasing all signs of his presence in SHIELD's systems.

"Iron Man," Steve called out to Tony, as if in response to JARVIS' message, "back up Widow. Then I want both of you back here with me. Buck and I'll work on taking out the command center, here."

"Cap," Rhodey put in, sounding harried but satisfied, "Charlie carrier is on course to crash offshore. Heading to Bravo carrier."

Judging by his tone of voice, Natasha surmised that he and Falcon had run into some opposition but had no problems.

"Copy," Steve replied briskly. "We'll rendezvous with Agents Coulson and Hill after Insight is dealt with."

"Iron Man," Natasha added, taking advantage of a brief pause to jump into the conversation, "rendezvous point is on the terrace on the south side of the Triskelion, 42nd floor."

"See you there, Widow," he shot back, clearly pleased with the way things were going despite the mass chaos and insanity of the whole situation.

"Copy," Natasha acknowledged, and carefully stepped over to the door of the server room. It had no windows, so she spent a long few seconds listening intently. The main alarm was still blaring, making any kind of detailed reconnaissance impossible without being able to see, but the heavy boots SHIELD favored for their foot troops would still be audible even in these conditions if anyone was running past.

Hearing no one, she slipped out into the corridor, glanced both ways, and began retracing her steps. The corridor was still unoccupied, and she took full advantage of the speed that allowed her.

Reaching the fire door that she'd jimmied open, Natasha didn't slow, letting her momentum force the door open, knowing that there was a mechanism at the top of the door to damp the action and keep the door from crashing into the wall.

That, unfortunately, was where she ran into a group of HYDRA footsoldiers. They weren't supposed to be in the stairwell, and Natasha bit back the irritated curse that tried to trip off her tongue. She'd been spending too much time with Tony, and it was making her lose her edge. Thinking quickly, she paused and caught the door as it fell shut behind her, slowing it and keeping it from making a clang that would resound through the stairwell and announce her presence.

As it was, she'd been careless and might well have given herself away already.

Natasha dropped into a crouch and watched the group intently, assessing, for a few seconds. There were five of them, clustered together on the stairs two landings below her. They were looking around intently, checking the doors below them for motion. Obviously they'd heard the door open. Their mistake was that they didn't think to look up.

So few people did.

Planting her hands on the railing opposite the door and kicking herself up and over it into a handstand that immediately turned into a back handspring, she vaulted out over the side of the landing she was on, placing herself in precisely the right position to land on one guy's shoulders. He collapsed under her sudden weight, and her legs went around his neck in a chokehold as the rest of them shouted in surprise.

They all got in each others' way in the tight quarters, though. One pulled a pistol and tried to shoot at her, but caught an elbow to the face from one of his friends and went down like a rock. Natasha hit the one that had pulled his pistol with a shock from her Widow's Bites and immediately dismissed him as a threat. Before he'd hit the ground, twitching, she'd engaged the next goon. He tried to tackle her and get the one under her free of her hold, and failed. Natasha hooked an arm around his leg at the knee and pulled. His leg folded, and she used his momentum to throw him over her shoulder. He went sprawling, then fell over the edge of the landing with a panicked yell. The last man took one look at the scene that had unfolded in under ten seconds, then turned tail and ran, shouting into his radio about intruders and danger.

Natasha let him go.

Having decided to ignore him, Natasha hurried down the three flights of steps separating her from the correct exit and shoved it open. There would be about fifty meters of open plan offices and cafeteria separating her from the terrace that was the rendezvous point.

"You okay, Widow?" Tony called over the comms, apparently getting impatient. "I've got some very unfriendly company, out here."

"Thirty seconds," she told him, doing her best to cover the distance stealthily. "Ran into some company of my own."

"War Machine, Falcon," she heard Steve yell over the rattle of gunfire as she reached the halfway mark along her path from the stairwell to the terrace of the building, "we could use a little help here!"

"Got problems of our own, Cap," Sam yelled back. "Ask Thor!"

"It pains me," came the response, "but I must say thee nay."

Steve swore a blue streak. "We're pinned down. Gonna have to force our way out of here."

"What," Tony quipped, "no love for me?"

"You're busy, too," Clint pointed out. "Thor, incoming on your seven."

Carefully tuning out the conversation, Natasha checked her route out, and, seeing no one, decided to make a break for it. "Iron Man," she called out, hearing the distinctive whine and fire of repulsors, "friendly incoming, on your six."

"About time," he replied, the relief in his tone belying his irritation. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand."

She had just taken out the last remaining enemy and was moving towards Tony so that he could fly them both out, when Steve grabbed their attention once more. "Iron Man," he yelled, "we're gonna need a lift!"

"What? Steve, no!" Bucky yelled, and Natasha felt like she was watching events unfold in slow motion. 

"It's the only way out of here. Come on, Buck."

She could just about make out Steve on the carrier nearest the building, couldn't see Bucky try to grab something -- anything -- on Steve's person to haul him back and fail, but she was sure it had happened.

And then, there was a blue-uniformed figure falling towards the Chesapeake Bay.

With perfect timing, that was the moment three squads of goons came pouring out onto the terrace, and surrounded them. They didn't wait for Natasha or Tony to ready themselves, just taking advantage of the element of surprise to throw themselves into the fight.

Not that it helped them.

Even distracted as she was, Natasha was efficient and poised. There would have been enough men here to overwhelm her, though, had Tony not stayed to help.

It did mean, however, that Tony was pinned down and couldn't go catch Steve. "Rhodey," he snapped, the tension in his voice sounding almost physically painful, "do me a favor and go catch his ass!"

"Fucking hell. You owe me for this, Tony." Rhodes shot back. "Falcon, I've gotta jet."

"Right behind you." Sam replied, and Natasha forced her attention back to the fight.


	11. [[ Rhodey POV ]]

The worst thing about it, Rhodey reflected as he swore into the comms and dove after Captain America, was that this group of maniacs had been good for Tony. At least if they hadn't been, he could have maybe said or done something about it.

But no.

They just had to live up to their reputations and help Tony claw his way up to join them.

And it was beyond weird that most of them were in a relationship.

That would have been easier to accept, actually, if they weren't all so prone to _jumping off high things without a parachute_.

"Anytime you're ready, War Machine." The Captain prompted.

The asshole sounded calm. Sounded like he did this daily. Jesus, but Tony knew how to pick 'em. Rhodey wanted to shake his head in disbelief. "I'm coming," he shot back, carefully aligning himself with the Captain's body. "A few... more... seconds..."

Everything fell into place an instant later, and Rhodey felt it all come together with the instincts that flying a fighter had given him, and that the use of his suit had sharpened. "Gotcha!" He locked his hands around the Captain's waist and carefully hauled him out of freefall.

"Thanks, Rhodes," Natasha sounded more relieved than she was likely to let on. "Put him down on the river bank, and we'll take him from there."

Rhodey looked over to see Tony pull up alongside him, Natasha in his arms. Plotting a gentle banked course for the coordinates that suddenly pinged on his HUD map courtesy of JARVIS, Rhodey turned to his passenger and said, "if they don't chew you out over this, I will."

He got an unrepentant chuckle in return as Sam reported that he'd picked up Barnes. "I know," Rogers replied. "Probably several times. But first we've got to evacuate the rest of the team."

Putting a hand up to his left ear, Rogers flicked on his comm line. "Hulk," he requested, "bring Hawkeye to meet us."

Hawkeye huffed. "Up here, Big Green. Nope, next building."

Thor appeared beside them, his hammer seeming to whistle lowly as it cut through the air, letting him ignore the turbulence Rhodey's boot jets caused, to fly escort. "Captain," he scolded, "thou shouldst not have done that. Death pardons no man, and I can assure you, not one of your teammates would remain unaffected."

Rogers turned to Rhodey with a shrug. "See? Bet you Nat's next. Bucky'll wait till later."

Pulling up into a position that would let him land on his feet, and setting down on a section of Tarmac that had seen better days, Rhodey shoved lightly at Rogers' shoulder, aware of the armour's strength. He watched as Natasha walked over, managing to project her fury though her expression never changed. "I'm not taking that bet."

Tony was behind her, his movements a little clumsier thanks to the suit he wore, but oddly graceful nonetheless. "Thanks man," he said, giving Rogers the stink eye. "If I didn't know he did that kind of shit for a living, I'd be pretty pissed at him."

Rhodey snorted. "That's for you two to work out," he replied as Natasha began verbally taking Rogers apart in a low vehement tone.

It didn't seem to be making a difference.

Rhodey gave up trying to understand their dynamic, again, and turned to watch The Hulk appear with a bemused archer tossed over his shoulder like a toddler. He refused to put Hawkeye down, though, and it took them a moment to work out why that was. "I'm fine," Clint protested, still partially upside down, "just a lightly sprained ankle."

Tony snorted. "Hulk wouldn't be so protective over a mere sprained ankle."

As Sam swooped in with a furious looking Barnes in his arms, Natasha chimed in. "He got shot, too. Lower left leg, superficial."

Clint groaned. "It's minor. Doesn't even need stitches."

"I'll be the judge of that," Sam retorted. "But first, didn't y'all say something about a rendezvous with your handler?"

"Right. Nat," Tony caught Natasha's attention, and she smiled. "Your show."

Pulling a miraculously intact StarkPhone out of god only knew where, she poked at it twice, the held it up to her ear. "Coulson? Romanov. Yes. Yes. I'll handle it. We need pick up." Shutting the phone off and making it disappear again, she turned back to the group and reported, "Coulson's sending a van for those of us who can't fly. Rendezvous back at Sam's place."

Tony nodded as best he could in the armour. "We need to regroup and figure out transport home. And possibly work out the logistics of a press conference or twenty."

It was Rhodey's turn to groan. Press conferences were one of his least favorite things, and, while he probably wasn't going to be front and center at this one, odds were good this would cause all kinds of havoc once his CO's had had a chance to get over their shock.

He was tempted, in that moment, to retire from the Armed Forces in favour of being an Avenger, and take the armour with him. Tony wouldn't turn him away. The rest of the team wouldn't either; that much was clear.

The promised van showed up before Barnes broke his stony silence. Rhodey was happy not to have to ride in the van with the rest of them.

"Right. Come on then." Sam prompted them. Thor nodded and flung himself into the sky to hover about ten meters above them.

Tony shrugged. "Need a boost into the air, Falcon?"

"No, but it helps." Sam took Tony's hand and gave him a Look. "No funny business, now."

"Baby, I'm hurt." Tony shot back, hitting his thrusters so gently that they drifted into the air like a feather in a light breeze. "Just wounded. Cut to the quick."

"You're being an ass, is what you are." Sam quipped, tone pointed, and Tony hit the thrusters hard, in reply, sending them shooting up into air. Sam made a rather undignified noise.

Rhodey couldn't help the laugh that pulled out of him as he followed them into the air. "Enough, you two. Come on, Thor."

"Aye. I desire a meal and rest."

\------

By the time they had all made the rendezvous at Sam's place, they were crashing hard. Coming down off the adrenaline of a fight was never easy, and this drawn out encounter had kept them all on a knife's edge for almost three hours, all told. More if you included the pre-mission nerves and anticipation.

Not to mention the various injuries that the team and their SHIELD agents were sporting. Coulson's stab wound -- which he refused to discuss how he'd gotten -- and Hill's gunshot wound had been tended to almost immediately. And the result of that was that they had both simply gotten up and kept working, albeit AMA. Coulson had set himself the task of organizing the press conference they would inevitably have to give, and Hill had thrown herself into the task of rallying what was left of SHIELD.

Clint had been patched up by Sam once they'd gotten back to his rented house; Sam had immediately disappeared up the stairs and come back with what Rhodey was sure was his attempt to replicate his field first aid kit with civilian equipment. It had been predictably well stocked with everything he might possibly need, right up to and including several different types of suture kits.

Steve's injuries had been superficial scrapes and bruises, and Tony's had already healed, thanks to Extremis. Dr. Banner and Thor hadn't had a scratch on them. Natasha and Barnes, he'd learned after they ghosted back into the room with a few well-hidden bandages under their clothes, had patched each other up. Barnes looked a lot calmer, too. Natasha must have found a way to settle him. He'd been very jumpy and tense throughout the trip to Sam's place, from what Rhodey could gather.

Casting an assessing glance around the room, Sam had caught his eye, then. "Alright, Rhodes," he'd demanded, "out of that armour."

Tony had snickered. "You coming on to my best friend, Wilson?" He'd teased.

Sam had gone red, the color barely visible under his dark skin, and glared at Tony. "If I were making a pass, it'd be a lot less cheesy than that, thanks," he'd shot back.

For the sake of heading the argument off at the pass, Rhodey had hit the armour release and stepped out after it had retracted. "I'm fine, Sam."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Natasha had caught Tony's eyes, then, and distracted him. Rhodey made a note to thank her later. They really didn't need Tony's brand of teasing right now. Especially Sam, who had never experienced it. Not, Rhodey decided, that Sam couldn't handle it. But right now, all of them were tired to the point of making bad decisions.

He'd let Sam fuss over him, and then deal with Tony's bullshit.

Afterwards, once Sam was satisfied that all of them had had their injuries properly treated, it had taken them all of five minutes to strip off their uniforms, raid Sam's linen closet for all the blankets and pillows it contained, and find a place to nap. Well, all but one of them. Coulson had chosen to pull out his PDA instead to continue working on the arrangements for the press conference that would be taking place at noon. It was about 1000 hours now. Tony had made sure to let Pepper know to contact their handler before he'd passed out.

Rhodey, knowing he was on his last legs, surveyed Sam's living room and shook his head in vague amusement. Thor had claimed the plush La-Z-Boy and was snoring loudly, still wearing most of his armour. Hawkeye had curled up in the other chair in the room, after stripping down to his bright purple boxers -- Rhodey had felt like his eyes were going to be seared by them if he stared too long -- and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. Dr. Banner was sleeping slumped over the island in the kitchen. Rogers was stretched out on the floor next to the sofa, a pillow tucked between his head and his elbow, and the jacket of his uniform stripped off to reveal the tshirt he wore underneath. Barnes was tucked against his back, an arm draped over Rogers' waist. Tony and Agent Romanov were tangled together on Sam's sofa, dead asleep. Neither had bothered to do more than loosen the collar on what they were wearing. Tony was still in his undersuit, and Natasha likely hadn't brought other clothes. Or not cared enough to bother with that level of propriety, around her lovers.

Sam had _stared_ at the team once they were asleep, as though their positions held one of the secrets of the Universe, until Rhodey had caught his attention and raised an eyebrow at him. Granted, he couldn't claim that the sight was one he'd ever seen until now, either. But he knew Sam had to have seen how combat teams operated before. There was an almost psychic level of implicit trust that the good teams achieved, and the Avengers seemed to have it in spades.

Part of that was probably the weird group relationship the majority of them were in, though.

Not that Sam knew about that juicy little detail.

Stifling a yawn, Rhodey took Sam by the shoulder and gave him a shove toward the stairs. "Go get some sleep. Someone will wake you if there's a problem," he said quietly.

Coulson looked up at the words and nodded. "I'll keep watch. You should get some rest, yourself, Colonel. The Armed Forces brass won't be pleased with this result, necessary though it was."

"At least we got the server data to back us up." Rhodey sighed.

This press conference was going to be a nightmare.

Sam snorted. "You're worrying about that more than you should right now. Come on." Rhodey considered protesting, but gave in and allowed Sam to drag him up the stairs and give him a shove toward what Rhodey assumed was the master bathroom. "You seem a little more energetic than the others," he added. "Go get cleaned up. There's a spare toothbrush if you want it."

With a shrug, Rhodey let it happen. "Nah, I'll be fine dealing with that later."

When he re-emerged, feeling a little better and a lot cleaner, Sam caught his attention. Holding out a pillow and a blanket, he asked. "So was I imagining the cuddling? Captain America doesn't seem like the type to cuddle."

Rhodey snorted as he took the offered linens. "That's something you should be asking them."

Without another word, Sam turned to his bed and began stripping off the covers. "It's wide enough for two if you don't mind sharing."

"Awww," Rhodey couldn't resist ribbing him, "you want to cuddle too?"

Sam shoved him backwards onto the bed.


	12. [[ Natasha POV ]]

SHIELD would never be the same after this escapade, and all of them knew it. The whole world would feel the repercussions as the US scrambled to do damage control, and that was going to be something the team would have to keep an eye on, going forward. In this situation, Tony's celebrity status was as likely to help as hinder them, and it would most probably fall to her and Pepper to handle the spin. But, Natasha felt a hint of a smile briefly tug at her lips, thankfully they had Steve's reputation to bolster their message. It had worked minor miracles after the Chitauri invasion, and Steve's popularity had really only grown since then, thanks to the team's careful management by Coulson.

On a personal level, they would all need time to recover.

They'd been woken by Coulson some one and a half hours after they'd gotten back to Sam's place and staked out places to sleep. Barnes had still been visibly upset, though far less so than he had been after they'd talked a few things out. She'd dragged him off to Sam's master bathroom, on the hunch that he would have a second first aid kit in there, and forced Barnes to talk while she'd cleaned and dressed his injuries, minimal though they were. A physical and emotional binding of wounds. Barnes had clearly agonized over what he'd done and wallowed in the guilt he felt some more after they had settled in to rest. It would only be visible to those who knew him well, though. His tells were minimal. A hint of tightness around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. A slight hunch to the set of his shoulders.

Bruce was staring blearily at the glass of orange juice Sam had pushed on him. Clint and Steve had both been lightly injured in the fight and needed to be patched up once they'd gotten back to Sam's place. Steve had peeled the dressings back off after he'd woken, over Sam's protests. The protests had stopped abruptly when Steve had shown him that the scrapes and bruises had already disappeared. Steve and Clint both looked worn down and tired, though, even after the respite Coulson and Hill had granted them. Natasha chalked that up to the lack of sleep they'd all had going into the mission.

Thor was his usual boisterous self, on the other hand, and Falcon and Rhodes both looked more or less put together. Natasha suspected that Coulson would likely try to make sure Rhodes was the center of attention at the press conference. Privately, she wasn't sure that they could pull that off, but it was a smart move.

Tony, predictably, had woken up reluctantly. It had taken Natasha some persuasion to get him to his feet, and once he'd been standing, he'd wavered on his feet for a long moment, then shuffled off towards Sam's kitchen to help himself to some coffee. They'd let him go, knowing he'd need his caffeine fix before he would be remotely coherent. After that, it hadn't taken him long to evaluate the states they were all in, and then he'd immediately broken the tension as best he could. Natasha wanted to shake her head at the memory; Tony was far better at reading a room than he cared to admit. And he'd gotten a lot better at dealing with emotions over the course of their relationship.

A shouted announcement that carried from the large hall Coulson had managed to commandeer for the press conference drifted through to the little back room they all waited in. Well. All of them save Barnes, who was supposed to be waiting for them at Sam's place. Natasha was sure he'd found a way to sneak in and picked out a spot from which to observe the proceedings.

Though all of them were silent, only Tony, Thor, and Rhodes looked remotely calm.

The trio would be fielding most of the assembled reporters' questions, and Natasha agreed with the choice.

When the nondescript aide waved them into the room, Steve bit back a wince and squared his shoulders as though he'd be facing a firing squad.

Knowing better than to hope for this to go well, Natasha inserted herself in their lineup, behind Tony and before Steve.

\------

Tony made it as far as the car Coulson had found them, an enormous SUV with plenty of seats, before he seemed to wilt. Natasha made sure she secured the seat next to him, and threaded her hand into his hair as the car started moving. "Hey. You okay?"

"Tired," he mumbled, turning into the touch.

Using the hand in his hair to tug him gently towards her, Natasha settled his head in the curve of her neck and watched as a shudder went through him. Slowly, though, Tony relaxed, settling against her more completely.

On his other side, Barnes watched them closely. Natasha wasn't sure why. Whether that was because Barnes was still feeling guilty over stabbing Tony -- she'd found the ragged slit in the undersuit, by then the only evidence left that it had happened, and seen Barnes project his guilt all over the place, and both had been confirmation of what Tony had said over the comms at the time -- or for some other reason entirely, she couldn't tell.

Thinking back, she considered Barnes' state more closely. He had looked very relieved when Pepper had shown up at Sam's place with a three piece suit and tie, and chivvied Tony into it on the spot. Natasha was almost sure that had been because there had been no sign of any injury as Tony had stripped off the undersuit to reveal a tiny red thong and quite a lot of skin. Thor had smirked, and asked where he could get one. Banner had choked on air and left the room, turning rather pink when Clint wolf whistled at the scene. Sam had looked torn between laughter and shock, but that kind of bodily modesty was something that got burned out of you pretty quickly in the Armed Forces, so he'd recovered quickly.

Later, Sam had done his best to fade into the background at the press conference itself. He'd mostly succeeded, too, with the way Tony and Rhodes had made sure the lion's share of the attention was on them. Pepper had slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and joined the throngs of reporters, rather than stay away or join them on the stage. She'd disappeared not long afterwards, tapping rapidly at her phone.

Tony broke into her thoughts, then. "Tashka?" 

She used the hand that was still in Tony's hair to scratch lightly at his scalp and got a pleased purr out of him. "What is it, Tony?"

"We should take the team to the house outside Nassau. Bring Sam, too. Pep agrees."

Natasha blinked, caught off guard. Tony must have used Extremis to text her during the conference, she decided. "Why?"

Clint snorted and answered for Tony. "Isn't it obvious? He wants to get everyone out of the spotlight long enough for us to recover. Can't say I disagree."

Steve shrugged, the motion more fluid than it would have been three hours ago, before they'd slept. "It's not a bad idea. We've said what we have to say, and it wouldn't be a bad thing to give the chaos a chance to settle."

Thor grinned and shook his head. "I am honored by your invitation, Man of Iron," he replied, "but I must decline. My lady Jane should know that I am uninjured."

Bruce nodded. "Me too. I'd rather spend some time wandering someplace isolated than cooped up with you guys. No offense."

Rhodey made an amused sound. "Yeah, get your asses out of town for a bit. That'll mean less cleanup for me. Having to explain three wrecked helicarriers and the way SHIELD HQ got more than a little destroyed was bad enough. I don't need the added stress of wondering which of you is going to put your foot in your mouth in front of the press as I try to handle the rest of this." 

Rhodey's pointed tone made Tony huff a chuckle into Natasha's skin but he didn't bother to raise his head to reply. "Aww, Honeypuff, it's like you haven't known me for decades."

"Don't you even start, Stark," Rhodes grumbled. "You're a walking disaster, where it comes to the media, and all of us know it."

Clint took the opportunity to put in his own two cents. "You know, I'm not surprised at all that Tony has a house in the Bahamas."

Tony smirked into her skin, and Natasha turned into the caress. "You'll hate it," he told Clint. "Not a lot of tech around."

Steve snorted, disbelieving. "Somehow I doubt that."

Natasha pressed a chaste little kiss to Tony's hair before she put in. "I have good memories of that house."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, apparently succeeding -- at least partially -- in putting aside the thoughts he had been worrying at. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

She chose not to answer. Tony said nothing either.

After a beat Sam shrugged, breaking the contemplative silence he'd held since the press conference had drawn to a close. "Why the hell not. I'm not about to turn down a free trip to the Caribbean. And," he eyed Natasha, where she was tangled with Tony, "all y'all have some explaining to do about this little love fest you seem to have going on."

Clint laughed. "You have no idea, man. Your fate is sealed, now."


End file.
